Keranamu Malaysia?

So yesterday was Hari Kebangsaan.

Actually, I’m confused. That’s what I’ve always remembered it being called…apart from the shortened versions of Merdeka Day or even just plain ol’ Merdeka. But our independence day is also referred to as Hari Kemerdekaan...which I suppose is correct, since it’s a direct translation, unlike Hari Kebangsaan, which means “national day”. Which is it??

Meh. I’ll just use Merdeka, cos it’s shorter to type.

Merdeka began for us at midnight when the count-down party at The Curve/Ikano went beserk with the fireworks. The commotion woke us old fogeys up from our after-dinner nap. Wow, three whole hours.

Whatever are we going to do now?

Watch the last hour of Gandhi on non-Astro TV, that’s what. Ben Kingsley is so exotic. From Gandhi to Moses to Egyptian pharaoh. So muhibbah. Does a fast-to-the-death work anymore these days?

No fasting for us… it was off to Jalan Ipoh for dim sum. At 2 am. Kedai Kopi Mee Bon, if you must know. Their lor mai kai and pau are damn delicious. So cheap some more.

Infected Snowie with the Sudirman Merdeka song that goes… tanggal tiga puluh satu, bulan lapan lima puluh tujuh… now if only I had a muu muu-sized flag to wear like a butterfly baju. What do they really call those flappy, rectangular, batik-like print dresses anyway?


The highlight of the actual day onThursday for us was the luxury of having tea together on a weekday afternoon at Devi’s Corner in Bangsar. Thosai masala, roti pisang and teh tarik whilst watching the rain. Cendol by the roadside next to TMC. I had to wear a hat cos it was a bad hair day, but Snowie didn’t die of embarassment. Now that's love. :)

I hadn’t intended to write a Merdeka post. But yesterday, in between shovels (that’s exactly how I eat… by the shovel-full. Why waste mouth space?) of thosai, I said to Snowie…this is what I’ll miss when we’re over there.

Over there, being Australia, assuming I get my PR and Snowie gets a scholarship to do a Masters course. For those who remember, Snowie’s not going to Manila. She turned down the job because truck-loads of money and an impressive CV were lesser priorities for her.

We’re not going to have a lot of money, but we’ll have what makes us most happy. Life is unpredictable - you never know if you’ll be hit by a bus or stupidly choke to death on your own saliva tomorrow. Be happy while you can.

So. Why Australia?

1) The weather. I love autumn. I prefer to freeze than burn.

2) The quality of relatively cheap fresh food products is amazing.

3) Greater appreciation for just being alive and our place in the natural environment.

4) Less focus on material-gain-at-the-expense-of-all-else.

5) Better infrastructure. At least taxes, high as they are, seem to go somewhere useful.

6) The national psyche is less self-absorbed, hence greater appreciation for satire, wit and self-reflection (where people actually understand the difference between this and self-absorption).

7) Less dumb people in positions of power, therefore a greater likelihood of dealing with someone who understands logic.

8) Greater respect for books and general literacy.

9) A relatively intact check & balance system of government. A workable model for political shadow cabinets.

10) Parks. Accessible public spaces. Town planning as a viable concept actually exists.

There are a myriad reasons why not Malaysia. There are too many interconnected factors and it takes too long to explain. So just take the opposite of the above list.


Much has been said about the ungratefulness of those who choose to leave. It’s annoying how those arguments tend to tie the idea of gratitude to the country itself, like it was some kind of real live entity that consciously made choices for our betterment.

It’s as if we should be grateful for being spared the instability and destruction of bencana alam like typhoons, earthquakes and hurricanes because Malaysia, with single-minded intent, physically decided to plonk herself in an optimum geographical location.

As if Malaysia, like some kind of massive earthy mama goddess, gave birth to each and everyone of us, debated with herself over whether to name us Jaclyn, Daniel or Mawi (what a muhibbah coincidence) and nurtured us with the best bubur ikan bilis.

It's like because of that, we should be grateful to Malaysia, the living entity, for all her conscious decisions made specifically for our benefit. The way we are supposed to be eternally grateful to our mothers for having been popped out of a uterus.

Well. Malaysia happens to be shielded by the potato of Sumatra.

We avoided poor undeveloped country status because it just happens that we had a legacy of British-brought modern infrastructure to build from and Britain-educated personalities to drive development.

Call it divine micro-planning, or the nothing-better-to-do hand of fate, or a crumbly cookie, or family planning, nagging in-laws or a broken condom if you must. Whatever. We all just happen to be born here.


No. Malaysia didn’t specifically pick you and me out of a catalogue and place us, like carefully arranged chess pieces, into whichever state hospital we come from.

Which is why, just as there is no actual entity that owes me anything as a citizen, I similarly don’t owe the country a debt of gratitude compelling me to stay and … “make a difference”.

I am not leaving because of any perception of being treated as a “second-class citizen”. That’s victim mentality, the same mentality that these purported second-class citizens accuse the first-classers of having.

Technically, a citizen should be able to vote for what s/he wants the country to do for its citizens. Reality is, the modern concept of regulating a group of people within a geographic location is based on the idea that the majority rules. Policy planners and regulators, ie the government, are beholden to the majority. And if the majority thinks that the minority ought to be treated in a certain way…then unless you can actually do something about it, you just have to either find a way of making it work or just seek greener pastures.

That’s what I choose to do. The conditions here just aren’t conducive to me staying.

That doesn’t mean that I will necessarily stay in Australia forever. Life’s a continuous process of adjusting to circumstances beyond your control. Choosing how to adjust/react however, is entirely within our control.


What I will miss though…is the accessibility of food. Dim sum at 2 am. Mamak at any hour of the day.

I will miss the kaleidoscopic colours of cultural festivals, when racial politics, cultural prejudices and the social-economic divide are put aside for the common love of a good time and public holidays. I will miss the sounds of our collective culture…the bollywood tunes, the wedding kompang frenzy, the ear-splitting illegal firecrackers. The calls to prayer.

I am enriched for having been raised in an environment, despite the imperfections, that made multi-culturalism seem like just another aspect of everyday life. I feel that I am a better person for being the only non-Muslim in an eatery full of Muslims and thinking nothing of not digging in even though I can, five minutes before the hour for breaking fast.

I have been lucky to have the gift of a wider perspective.

But that doesn’t mean I’m obliged to stay.